How Pagan is Christmas?

Beneath the glow of festive cheer,
A deeper truth may yet appear—
A tale of customs old, obscure,
Of origins far from holy, pure.

When frosty air and carols chime,
Do we pause to ponder time?
Why sacred Feasts, from fall to spring,
Find no winter’s bell to ring?

The Romans forged a festive spell,
A borrowed script they’d never tell.
From Babylon’s cradle, dark and deep,
Sprang days Scripture forbade us keep.

Oh, December twenty-five’s allure!
Birthdays shared with gods obscure—
Tammuz, Mithra, Horus, all,
Their shadows cast on Yuletide’s hall.

Saturnalia, wild with cheer,
Draped the solstice every year.
With revelry, gifts, and evergreen,
A pagan tale became routine.

The tree of Asherah, trimmed with pride,
Stands upright, though its roots we hide.
Adorned with gold, a glimmering crown,
Echoes Babel’s idols long renowned.

“SANTA’S,” anagram, sly and neat,
Switch his letters, whom do we meet?
Yet parents lie with smiles sincere,
“Here’s a gift from Santa, dear.”

And let’s not forget the reindeer lore,
Babylon’s walls, their carvings store.
The serpent’s tree, mankind’s first fall,
Decorates our decked-out halls.

You say, “He wasn’t born that day,
But let’s pretend, it’s just our way.”
Why pray for me, because I pause
To shun this mix of script and flaws?

“Come out of her!” the call is clear—
Babylon falls, its end is near.
Why cling to ways the nations prize,
When truth’s full moon illumines skies?

Leviticus outlines YAHUAH’s Feasts,
From spring to fall, His sacred tests.
Each marks His plan, salvation’s thread,
Through the Lamb who rose from the dead.

His birth, not winter’s solstice cold,
A new moon bright the Scriptures hold.
The sixth month bore Messiah’s cry,
When its full moon graced the ancient sky.

But Daniel warned, the scribes would scheme,
And alter times with twisted dreams.
So, was His birth obscured by lies,
To blend with pagan enterprise?

“Christmas,” once banned in days of yore,
A pagan tag Americans swore.
Now embraced, its roots concealed,
While holy days remain repealed.

Peace on Earth? Goodwill to men?
Align with Him, and start again.
Reject the customs wrought by hands,
And walk the path the Lamb commands.

The Savior calls, His voice is true,
“Come out, My people; I wait for you.”
For in His love and laws divine,
True joy and peace forever shine.

So, pause beneath the tinseled glow,
And ask yourself, “Do I really know
Why the world hates Yah’s holy ways,
Yet adores all Satan’s masquerades?”

by Kerrie French
(with AI assist)